Three Margarets | Page 9

and chin; but this child must look like her mother." Peggy
nodded, but could not yet find speech.
"And now," the old lady went on, "I am sure you are longing to know
who I am, and why I live here by myself, like an old fairy godmother.
Sit down, my dears, and be comfortable! Here, Margaret, the little
rocking-chair is pleasant; Peggy, child, take the footstool! So! now you
look more at home.
"Well, children, the truth is, I am very old. When my next birthday

comes, I shall be ninety years old; a very great age, my dears! Your
grandfather was my cousin; and when, five years ago, I was left alone
in the world by the death of my dear only son, John Montfort, your
uncle, like the good lad he is, found me out and brought me home with
him to live. He is my godson, and I loved him very much when he was
a little child; so now, when I am old and helpless, he makes return by
loving me."
She paused to wipe her eyes; then went on.
"When one is nearly ninety years old, one does not care to move about
much, even if one is perfectly well, as I am. John knew this (he knows
a great deal), and he fitted up these pleasant rooms, in the warmest and
quietest corner of the house, and here he put me, with my little maid,
and my books, and my cat, and my parrot; and here I live, my dears,
very cheerfully and happily. On pleasant days I go out in my garden,
and sit under the trees. Look out of the window, girls, and see my green
parlour. Is it not pretty?"
The girls knelt on the broad window-seat, and looked out. Before them
was a square, grassy place, smooth and green as an emerald. The house
enclosed it on two sides; the other two were screened by a hedge of
Norway fir, twenty feet high, and solid as a wall. Over this the
sunbeams poured in, flecking the green with gold. In one corner stood a
laburnum-tree, covered with yellow blossoms; under a tall elm near by
was a rustic seat.
"How do you like my kingdom?" asked the old lady, smiling at their
eager faces.
"It is like a fairy place!" said Margaret. "You are quite sure you are real,
Mrs. Cheriton?" They smiled at each other, feeling friends already.
"'Mrs. Cheriton' will never do, if we are to see each other every day, as
I hope we are. How would you like to call me Aunt Faith?"
"Oh, the lovely name!" cried Margaret. "Thank you so much! Now we
really belong to some one, and we shall not feel strange any more; shall

we, Peggy?"
"I--s'pose not!" stammered Peggy. "I shall like it ever so much."
The girls sat a little longer, chatting and listening. Mrs. Cheriton told
them of her parrot, who was old too, and who spoke Spanish and
French, and did not like English; she showed them her books, many of
which were bound in white vellum or parchment. "It is a fancy of
John's," she said, "to have all my belongings white. I think he still
remembers his Aunt Phoebe. Do you know about your Great-aunt
Phoebe?"
The girls said no, and begged to hear, but Mrs. Cheriton said that must
be for another time.
"I must not keep you too long," she said, "for I want you to come often.
I will call Janet, and she shall show you the way through my green
parlour to the garden. The Fernley garden is the pleasantest in the world,
I think."
She touched the bell, and told the pretty rosy-cheeked maid who
appeared to take the young ladies by the back way, and introduce them
to Chiquito; and they took their leave regretfully, begging that they
might come every day to the white chamber.
Chiquito's cage hung in the porch, and Chiquito was hanging in it
upside down. He swore frightfully at the sight of strangers, and bit
Peggy's finger when she tried to stroke him; but at a word from Janet he
was quiet, and said, "Me gustan todas!" in a plaintive tone, with his
head on one side.
"What does that mean?" asked Peggy. "He's horrid, isn't he?"
Janet's feeling were hurt. "He doesn't mean it!" she said. "And he
always wants to be pleasant when he says that. Something out of a
Spanish song, Mrs. Cheriton says it is, and means that he likes folks.
You do like folks when they like you, don't you, poor Chico?"

"En general!" said the bird, cocking his yellow eye at Peggy. "Me
gustan todas en general!"
"Well, I never!" said Peggy. "I think he's a witch, Margaret."
They went